


Bees with Flower Crowns

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bees, Bilbo is a Dork, Crack, Drunk Shenanigans, M/M, Probably ooc, Sorry!, They're both too cute and drunk, Thorin is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CONTEXT NEEDED!</p><p>So this post appeared on my tumblr dashboard recently: http://anonymoussong.tumblr.com/post/142502094582/consider-this-bees-with-flower-crowns-are-the (as reblogged by anonymoussong), and I immediately latched onto the darling ridiculousness of it all and decided this argument would SO happen between a very drunk Thorin and Bilbo.</p><p>Thus this quick cracky, fluffy, possibly OOC ficlet was born, for this you have my sincere apologies! Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bees with Flower Crowns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnonymousSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousSong/gifts).



"Flower crowns…"

"Hn?" 

"They need- they need flower crowns," Bilbo's voice had taken on the gentle, dreamy sort of quality that was only completed by the soft slurs and the sibilant hisses of the truly sozzled. "Because they're so fuzzy, they need 'em." 

"Who needs-?" 

"The bees, Thorin!" Bilbo waved a haphazard hand in a grand gesture, clumsily sloshing his mead to indicate of whom he was speaking. "The bees need little flower crowns to cheer them up whilst they work, yes?" 

"Oh…" a sniff, a pause, an attempt to look entirely sober and regal spectacularly failed and then… "Are they not cheerful then, Master Bag- Bilbo?" 

"Heh, Master Bag… um, yes I s'pose they are but… flower crowns would look nice anyway." 

"Aye, I expect they would but- the flowers are too big for them?"

"No, no I can find small ones, let's go find some!"

Journeying was a lot more pleasant when it was a relaxed return trip with no threat of a dragon, Bilbo thought muzzily as he wandered aimlessly over to a small patch of wild flowers, Thorin at his heel, and sat down amongst them. 

It was also a lot more pleasant when certain friendly skin-changers offered them a place to stay for a few days and even allowed them to sample mead.

Unfortunately, what would be a goodly mug full for Beorn was in fact several tankards full for smaller folk like dwarves and hobbits, but whilst the few in the Company who had accompanied them in their trip to the Shire had wisely shared their mugs and partaken in only one. Thorin and Bilbo had drunk an entire mug… (or possibly more), to themselves in an unwise and unspoken competition to see who could outlast the other; they were now feeling the effects of their folly, not that they were aware of it of course.

Somewhere near Beorn's house, Balin groaned in despair in hid his face against his brother's shoulder so he would not have to watch the spectacle that was his former king and their burglar. Dwalin was wheezing with laughter, Ori was scribbling the events furiously in his book, and Fíli and Kíli had decided this was too much to bear witness to and remain mentally unscathed and so retreated inside.

"So y'see," Bilbo was murmuring knowledgeably to Thorin, despite his drunkenness. "If we use these the- the shmall- Smallseed Sandmat, and some Butterwort-" 

"Warts in butter… unpleasant thought that-"

"Hush you, the Butterwort and um let's shee… Lady's Bedstraw is good um- oh and Forget-Me-Nots might work too- there, we just- twine… damn… give me a hand, a helping hand here please, Thorin."

"Hn," obligingly Thorin began to twine the teeny tiny flowers into some semblance of a crown, though in actuality his fingers were probably too thick for the task despite his dexterity, and more often than not his attempts fell apart. Bilbo did not seem to notice thankfully, though Thorin openly pouted over his failures. 

"This doesn't matter you know," Thorin mumbled. 

"Whyever not?" Bilbo looked up from his work aghast as if Thorin had just insulted him in the gravest manner possible; knowing hobbits that probably involved their cooking skills or something.

Thorin held up his hands in supplication, his face a picture of remorse. "It's not- I mean they're lovely," here Bilbo gave him a slow and beatific smile which caused Thorin to grin and momentarily forget what he was trying to say before; "I merely mean to say that- well they will look very fine but their hands- feet- feets will be cold without gloves." 

"What?"

"Their little feet- er feets, foots! They will get cold without gloves- like the ones Bofur always wore, you know? Or… ah Ori!" 

Ori heard his name and tried to hide behind Dwalin's bulk lest he be spotted and dragged into their foolishness; unfortunately, his escape plan failed for Thorin had already spied him despite his alcohol-clouded gaze. 

"Ori, lad! We need you to- the feet! You knit very fine gloves, yesh? Please will you knit these little- um large bees some gloves! Fingerless gloves! Like Bofur's!"

"I er- Your Majest- that is um, Thorin- that really isn't physically possible. The flower crown idea alone is fairly ridic-" 

Ori cut himself off, for despite all assumptions to the contrary, Bilbo had somehow managed to totter over to a rather busy and oblivious bee and with surprisingly gentle precision, deposit the tiny flower crown atop its fuzzy head.

It did look rather sweet but- well it could not fly quite as well now, Ori thought with a sigh. He watched as the sizeable insect took off and listed sideways, flew in a circle, and only then managed to right itself with the unexpected additional weight… hopefully Beorn would not think ill of them for this.

The youngest member of their Company started as Bilbo placed a hand upon his shoulder. Despite being nearly insensate with mead, Bilbo still managed to be remarkably light and quiet on his feet. The hobbit leaned in to whisper conspiratorially into Ori's ear and the young dwarf rolled his eyes at Dwalin and Balin as the hobbit's voice carried further than he obviously intended. 

"Jusht humour him, he'sh very drunk, Oriri." 

"And you are not?" Ori gaped at Bilbo's sheer oblivious hypocrisy. "You are the one who just gifted a giant bee a flower crown, Master Baggins." 

Bilbo blinked slowly, and then giggled. "I did didn't I, but they really do look lovely!" 

"Fingerless gloves would look lovely also! Practical too," Thorin argued from his place still seated on the grass.

"Pish posh, flower crowns suit them better."

The early evening devolved from there into good natured bickering as Bilbo stumbled back over to Thorin's side in order to try and argue the benefits of flower crowns over fingerless gloves, and tutored him on how best to make them (perhaps he had noticed Thorin's failures after all). 

Ori sighed in relief having been spared, but as he watched Thorin and Bilbo industriously start making flower crowns again, he had a horrible feeling this outcome was not much better. 

"If one o' them gets stung, I'm goin' t'laugh myself sick," Dwalin proclaimed with a snort, deciding to leave his fool of a shield brother and his shield brother's One to whatever idiotic devices they had in mind.

Balin felt kindly enough to stay and keep an eye on them, and Ori decided this strange turn of events certainly needed to be written down properly… and shared with Thorin's embarrassed nephews, he thought with a wicked grin. 

As the young dwarf turned to return inside the house, he nearly ran straight into the large and imposing figure of Beorn and winced, hoping fervently that the bear-man would not throw them all out for disturbing his bees and picking his flowers. 

Thankfully he seemed rather amused, and spared Ori a glance, lips twitching suspiciously as he observed. "Little bunny is picking a great deal of my flowers for this..."

"We _are_ sorry, Master Beorn," Ori intoned earnestly. "Should I go to try and stop them?" 

"No, little dwarf, let them be. My flowers will be properly avenged when they wake on the 'morrow. That mead has quite a kick to it, I should have warned them I think… if they can even lift their heads for the ache in them come morning I will be most surprised." 

Ori winced again, in sympathy for Thorin and Bilbo this time, but shrugged philosophically all the same. "Well, they did bring it on themselves."


End file.
